


Pony Layin' Eggs

by LeastExpected_Archivist



Series: Coming of Age [2]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, Incest, M/M, Multiple Partners, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Romance, no happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-02-04
Updated: 2002-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:27:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25158487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeastExpected_Archivist/pseuds/LeastExpected_Archivist
Summary: By DiamondSam's birthday brings lonely wishes forward for himself and Pippin, both longing after something they can't have, they decide to explore 'safer' territory with each other . . .
Relationships: Sam Gamgee/Pippin Took
Series: Coming of Age [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1819885
Kudos: 3
Collections: Least Expected





	Pony Layin' Eggs

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Amy Fortuna, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Least Expected](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Least_Expected), which has been offline since 2002. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on the [Least Expected collection profile](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/leastexpected/profile).
> 
> Disclaimer: all these characters are Tolkien's and I don't rightly know what he'd make of all this! I do it all for love, not money.
> 
> Notes: The age differences between Sam and Pip are pretty clear here by their ways of dealing with a love they think they can't have. As far as hobbit years, I've always used the 2/3 rule--since a 33 year old hobbit is like a 21 year old human, I just always assume their human years are about 2/3 their hobbit, so at 23, Pippin is like 16. Year is 1413 S.R., Frodo is 45, Sam is 33, Merry is 31 and Pippin is 23.

Sam rejoiced when he saw the bright green door and the tidy (well at least he liked to think so) little garden at Bag End as they reached the end of Bagshot Row. A full moon ducked in and out of light clouds over them, casting its silvery rays on the green grass and wild heather lining the street, lighting their way, which was fortunate, since both were a bit blind with tears and too much drink.

Sam's distress had not lessened with the walk; images of Frodo at the pub still filled his head with longing, and the sight of Pippin's jealousy over Merry and Estella . . . and the kiss . . . he'd nearly given in to Pippin's wants, and he wasn't too sure now he'd be able to walk away. But surely Pip didn't want him, not in that way . . . though it had felt so good to be pressed into, and the feel of his hot tongue . . . Sam scratched hard at his head, as if he could scratch away the image.

"We're here, Master Pip. I'm sure you're able to take care of yourself from here; I really shouldn't stay--it ain't proper . . . "Oh, Pippin was looking at him again with those wide green eyes and that little pout and two tears just ready to jump out the corners of his eyes. Sam had been just about ready to remove his arm from his friend's shoulders; now he wrapped both around him and embraced him, trying to squeeze away the misery from that dear face.

"Please, Sam, I need to be with someone tonight . . . will you come inside . . . " Pippin's head was buried against his shoulder, his small frame shaking with suppressed sobs, his fingers curling in Sam's scalp, massaging his broad shoulders. Sam closed his eyes and enjoyed the feel of it, of having someone just hold and caress you without a care to who might see or what others might think. He wished he had Pippin's openness and bravery. 'Course, the Took was also known for a somewhat harebrained lack of good sense.

Sam heaved a sigh, hoping he wasn't being played for a fool. "Shh, all right, Pip, all right--but what about Mr. Frodo? Can't be forgetting whose house we're in."

Pippin smiled at him with such delight Sam couldn't help but smile back--funny how the little hobbit's enthusiasm could be so catching. "Oh you needn't worry--I'm sure we'll have time enough to get you settled into a guest room before he comes home. And Merry's going to out a while, I'm sure. Come along, then, Sam 'ole boy. Time for me to take care of you!"

Taking him by the hand, Pip lead Sam through the front door and down the hall to his guest room--they passed another room that must be Merry's by the stuff on the bed--then before Sam quite knew what was happening, Pippin was shutting the door and pulling him to the bed, working frantically at his buttons.

"Pip, there, hold on," Sam muttered wondering if he was going to pop them all off in his haste--his head was swimming with the thoughts of what things he was likely about to do, and with Pip of all hobbits, but as Pippin managed to pull down his braces and strip the shirt from his back, he clean forgot to worry, for now Pippin had his mouth on one small pink nipple, and new sensations were flooding through him, making him arch and clutch at Pippin's back, massaging the tightly corded muscles down his spine to his little round rump.

Pippin gave a little jump as Sam's broad hands squeezed his bottom, and pressed hard into Sam, surprising him with the feel of his length--hardly little, Sam would call that! They began rubbing together and Sam groaned at the dual pleasures of a hot mouth at his chest and the exquisite feel of their two cocks sliding against each other through the thin material of their trousers, shuddering sensations that seemed to flow from his groin to the tips of his fingers.

He needed the feel of skin; panting, he undid the buttons of Pippin's weskit and shirt, peeling layers off of him as the younger hobbit roamed his body with his hands, squeezing the hard muscles of his arms and down his back, the softer flesh of his stomach, his thighs, around to his buttocks--Sam grunted and pushed Pippin back on the bed to remove his trousers before he burst inside of them. Pippin also took the opportunity to undress himself fully as well; then with a grin he was pulling Sam on top, wriggling happily against him.

Oh, the feel of all that warm soft skin against him was incredible; there simply weren't words to describe. Especially the hot velvet of Pippin's cock; Sam groaned and thrust in, reveling in the intense pleasure of Pippin's movements. Pippin moaned and thrust back and they were soon building up a rythem, mouths searching out each other to deeply kiss and taste each other's tongues as their hands roamed with an almost desperate hunger over each other.

Sam couldn't get enough; it was as if Pippin's excitement let loose something raging in him which until now had been tightly reigned in, perhaps because of his station--he licked along the side of his neck and raked his teeth along Pippin's ear, then moved down to nuzzle the smaller hobbit's chest, just sporting a few curly hairs, but give him a few years and more would come, Sam was certain. Taking the bud of Pip's nipple in his mouth, he gently nibbled and licked, and was most gratified by the sounds Pip was making and the way he bucked wildly beneath him.

Pippin grabbed his head and pushed him away, rising up to look him in the eye. "If we keep doing that, I'm gonna . . . and I don't want to yet. I want to try something--something Merry mentioned a lass doing to him once. Lie back for me."

He had another of those grins--the one that meant trouble for Sam. Nervously, Sam laid back and sighed as Pippin began kissing him again, quickly moving from his mouth to his neck down to his chest, moving southwards--he chuckled as Pip tongued his navel and made him squirm with a nibble to his waist, "Cut it out Pip, you knows I'm ticklish there!" he said, and for once Pip didn't bedevil him for it but moved steadily on until his soft breath was on Sam's urgently aching cock and Sam froze, wondering just what kind of ideas Merry had given him. All his best ideas came from Merry.

Pip nuzzled him, his cheek against Sam's inner thigh as he kissed the crown and made Sam nearly swoon with pleasure, the soft brown curls of his head softly tantalizing the flesh of the whole area. Pippin raised his head just for a second to give a wicked grin to Sam, then he began to take him into his mouth, swirling his tongue, tasting the pre-come leaking from the tip then trying to swallow him whole. Sam dug his fingers into the sheets beneath him to keep from grabbing Pippin's head and thrusting up, but he could not keep his hips from bucking each time Pip licked the slit or expertly (and just how did Pip know this stuff anyway?!) ran his fist up the length of him.

An urgency was building, but he couldn't just lie back and let it happen. "M-master Pip, I feel I should be doing something here as well," he managed to get out in a voice gone almost hoarse.

Pippin looked thoughtful for a second, then grinned and turned his body around. "Think that would work, Sam?" He actually blushed; Sam thought it must've been one of the first times he ever saw the young hobbit look bashful.

Sam grinned and for an answer turned his attentions on Pippin's cock, all pink and bouncing for attention--hah, just like Pip! Sam had no problem engulfing him in his mouth--oh the feel and taste of him was better then he'd even dreamt it could be. Before long they were both sucking and kissing each other's cocks and that urgency began building up at the root of his spine as his balls tightened, but this time Sam let it; if Pip knew enough to do this he oughta know exactly what would come next--so to speak.

Just as he thought that, he heard a muffled groan and then Pippin was coming and he was lapping it up, wondering _is this how Frodo would taste?_ and with that thought, he was coming as well, into Pippin's hands as he milked him for all he was worth. Shaking in the aftermath of such an intense experience, he laid back. "I don't think I've ever--uh--come so hard," he said to the air, as Pippin slowly moved around to cuddle next to him.

Pippin laid his head on his chest and wrapped his arms around him, and Sam took one rough hand to gently brush back damp curls from the smaller hobbit's forehead, delighting in the young smooth skin of his brow and cheek and the heart-wrenchingly sweet tenderness of his embrace--how had he ever though Pip was an imp? Why right now, he really _could_ love him, when he was being so open and caring . . . but that still didn't chase away thoughts of Mr. Frodo. To have _him_ held against him like this, to be kissing _his_ brow . . . a sudden ache tore at Sam's heart and he suddenly found his throat choked with tears. He bit back a sob.

Pip looked up into his eyes. "What's the matter? Are you sorry you--"

Sam responded instantly to the dread and pain in his face. "No, never, dear Pippin--it was beautiful--you're beautiful, you know that? I just--I just can't help . . . well, it'll probably never happen, will it. Mr. Frodo's never going to be interested in the likes of me."

Pippin laid his head back on his chest and squeezed him hard. "You want me to talk to him? You don't really know for sure, do you? I mean, he hides stuff pretty well--why else do you think we all have to watch him so close? At least with him you might have a chance. Me, it looks kind of hopeless right now . . ." Pippin went silent and Sam felt something hot and wet drip onto his chest. He took Pippin's head in both hands and brought him up to kiss the silent tears streaming down his face.

"No, no, Pippin, that ain't right; it can't be. Merry's always been for you, I'm just certain of it. Maybe he thinks you're too young; maybe he thinks he's protecting you. You just have to talk to him, that's all." He chuckled in spite of himself. "You could talk a pony into layin' eggs, you could--I don't see how he could resist you." He rocked Pippin as the young hobbit sniffled and clung to him trying to think of things that could make him feel better. "You're so open Pip, and you're brave, and you're smart . . . and you make people laugh. Wish I could do that with Mr. Frodo. He seems so . . . sad, sometimes. What with his parents and Bilbo gone and all." He nodded to himself. "Yep, Merry's a right fool if he don't see all the good things in you."

"Thank you, Sam." They both fell quiet for a moment, lost in their own thoughts.

The sound of a door closing made them both widen their eyes in horror; they sat up and looked at each other, hearts pounding.

"I'm sure they're all right, Merry; here we can check in on them. Sam? Pippin? Did you get Sam to stay?" the sound of Frodo's voice made Sam go cold all over, then hot as he fully realized their predicament. Pippin's room was on the outer edge of the hill, but the window was just a tiny circle--there was no way he was fitting his girth through it.

"It's just not like Pip to leave early like that," Merry responded, and they could hear he was getting closer. They hadn't locked the door--hadn't planned on needing to.

"What do we do?" Sam whispered to Pippin, but the sound of Merry's voice responding had brought back that green fire to Pippin's eyes; he looked ready for a fight, and not at all concerned about his lack of clothing.

For himself, Sam grabbed his shirt and trousers and began trying to dress, throwing Pip's shirt to him in a vain attempt to get him moving too--at least if they were dressed they could say they'd been talking, or . . . he looked at the rumpled mess of the bed . . . hmmm, well, maybe not. He was starting to shake, pacing the room, wondering what in the world he was going to say to Mr. Frodo . . . oh what a fool, what a fool he was! He was going to mess everything up, for some simple gratification, and Merry was going to kill him and Frodo was going to hate him and Pip too, for he wasn't brave enough to stand up to all their pointing fingers . . . he sobbed, pulling at his hair, wishing he could just disappear like old Bilbo used to do.

Frodo and Merry opened the door and gaped.

"Yes, we bedded each other," Pippin declared angrily, arms folded over his chest, his only modesty the shirt lying across his lap to conceal him.

Sam couldn't stand it; he sobbed, "I'm sorry!" and ran out past them, not caring that his shirt was half done or he'd left his braces behind; tears blinding his vision he made right for the door and left Bag End.


End file.
